


[Not] Obsessed

by AADevil



Series: [Not] Obsessed [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AADevil/pseuds/AADevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry Allen might or might not be a little obsessed with Snart and everything about him-Like the way his hands would feel on his skin, or how good his voice would feel against his neck.</p><p>Len chooses to remain partially oblivious to the obvious tension between them, but there's only so much he can do, especially when the Flash goes out on his way to give him his number.<br/>-<br/>They're both obsessed with each other, and there's so much denying they can do before the truth comes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Not] Obsessed

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic [ever posted, and like second written lmao...] so I will literally eat up any feedback !  
> I was planning on making it a oneshot, but I have no clue now ?? Who knows. Please throw any critiques and/or ideas my way !  
> P.S The layout is a bit awkward rn, If I post any more chapters I'll fix it !!

Some might call it an obsession, but Barry Allen prefers the word ‘duty’.  
So what if he’s grinning from ear to ear right before speeding into the facility that Leonard Snart and Mick Rory were robbing? He still kicks their asses, albeit he might get a few too many burns, and spend an annoying amount of time frozen, waiting for his suit to kick in with its heat properties, but he heals quick. No problem.  


If you ask him whether he enjoys being a hero, he’ll shrug it off, act as if anyone with his powers would do the same as him. Which is not only incredibly inaccurate yet humble, but also shows his belief in the good of others.  
But that’s not the point. The point is, lately Barry has been enjoying his encounters with his villains too much-and not all of them. Just one. Leonard Snart.  


It was highly noticeable, too. Let it be known that the Flash wears his heart on his sleeve. Whenever Cisco reported abnormally low levels of temperature signalling the usage of Captain Cold’s gun, Barry would immediately suit up, not waiting for any further details and instead leaving as fast as he could. Which happened to be pretty fast.  
Unsurprisingly, it led to some questions rising on Caitlin and Cisco’s part. At first they chalked it up to a weird nemesis-hero thing, which wasn’t _not_ accurate, but it wasn’t what was really going on.  
One time, they had asked him about why he seemed obsessed with Snart, wherein Barry responded with how it was his duty to stop all criminal activity, and just because Snart was being active in that whole area did _not_ mean that Barry was obsessed with him, thank you very much.  


Which he was-Obsessed, that is. Very much so.  


It’s not just the adrenaline rush he gets whenever he just barely dodges one of the cold gun blasts, or the sense of accomplishment as he knocks both Cold and Heatwave on their asses. It’s not even the odd sense of trust he seems to have, that Cold won’t _actually_ hurt anyone, that he’ll keep the deal they made.  
It’s more than that. Their snappy exchanges, extended silences right before they fight, the contrast between Snart’s words, and the way his eyes seem to tear Barry apart from the inside, in a way that made Barry unable to decide whether he should feel threatened or not. He just knew he didn’t want it to stop. Whatever it was.  


He didn’t analyse the flutter he would get in his stomach sometimes, whenever he was too close to Snart. He ignored it for the sake of reprimanding him-Because really, that was the only time they were close. When Barry was angry at him, when Leonard Snart had gone and done something wrong, or at least when Barry highly suspected him of planning on committing something he really shouldn’t.

He pretended that it didn’t feel any sort of good to press against Cold, gloved hands tightly clutching the front of his sweater, almost close enough that he could feel Cold’s breath against his own skin. Almost. Barry refused to think of how good that would feel, because he knew he would have to snap out of it then.

Because it was just insane, and wrong, and Barry Allen was _not_ obsessed.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t really know when his mind had started wandering during inappropriate moments, he just knew that it was happening _now_.  
Now, as he leaped away from the fire shot out by Heatwave in an explosive stream. As he circled the man in an attempt to disarm him, only to be grazed by a hit from Captain Cold’s gun. The pain was sudden, blinding him for a second he really couldn’t afford to lose, making him to lose his footing, falling as his hands instinctively reached out to his side.  


“Grab the bag, Mick!”  


Now, as Barry feels chills up his spine after hearing Snart, and he chalks it up to the pain, groaning as he pushed himself up. He didn’t notice the lack of fire in his face, but he did thankfully notice Heatwave grabbing the bag of stolen goods, turning his back to the Flash, and towards the back exit. That wouldn’t do. Barry ran forward, the actual objective, for once, clear in his head.  
No surprise that didn’t last long. A stream of cold shot out, blocking his path from reaching Mick Rory, diverting his attention back to the one person he really wish he didn’t have to deal with.  


“You’re with me.” Snart smirked in the sort of way he always liked to do when he thought he was winning. Which he might have been. But not for long.  


“You can’t take me by yourself!” The Flash clutched his fists, not waiting for a response as he began running again. He methodically circled around all of the blasts aimed at him, making sure that they didn’t hit any of the pillars in the building in an attempt to maintain the building’s structural integrity.  
Their back and forth exchange took up barely five seconds before he flashed behind Cold, sprinting and tackling him to the floor, arms wrapped around his waist.  
They both fell with a mutual grunt, an encounter which Barry would later chalk up as a win.  


“Get off me,” Whoops. Cold sounded angry, seemingly barely able to maintain his controlled tone. Which, really, should not be as intimidating as it was in the position they were in.  
It was quite the position, too. Barry hadn’t taken any of the grunt from the fall, and Cold seemed to have reacted in time, his arms propping him up, face downcast. It made Barry notice how his own face was pressed against Snart’s back.  


He shifted his cheek against the parka, made out of a too thick material. It didn’t let him actually feel any muscle, but it did give him a rough idea of the shape beneath it, especially with how his hands were wrapped around the man, his fingers pressed against the sweater that Cold was wearing. Even through the gloves, and the layer of clothing, Barry could somewhat feel the warmth of Snart’s skin, radiating to Barry, making his grip tighten in a way that would go unnoticed, and his breath hitch, an unexplainable feeling stuck in his throat.  
Maybe it was all in his imagination. Maybe he was imagining the nice, comforting smell, making it all too clear how close he was to Snart’s barely exposed neck. It reminded him of the sea and of the Summer, ironically. So much for being Cold. Everything about him seemed _warm_ , and comforting.

 Barry let himself enjoy it, not even noticing how preoccupied he had gotten in all his observations. The ignorant bliss didn’t last for long. Right as he blinked, and his shoulders seemed to relax, everything seemed to slot back into place.

 

“-Flash!” Cold groaned, already pushing himself up, startling Flash into speeding away, eyes wide as he noticed how time had slowed, swearing how that had felt like _hours_ as he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.  
It made him notice where he was, and what he was doing. His head whipped around, looking for Mick Rory. But to no avail. He must have escaped while Snart had been preoccupying Barry. It was all a distraction.

“Cisco!” Barry turned his back, hand reaching up to the side of his mask, “Heatwave got away, can you track him down?” He turned his head, keeping a sharp eye on Cold, who seemed pretty casual about the fact that he was stuck with the Flash, and didn’t seem to be making any attempts to follow behind his partner in crime.  


“I’ll try hacking into the surveillance cameras nearby.” Cisco’s reply was quick, and Barry could hear the light tapping of keys signalling that he was already on it.  


“I hope you know I’m not letting you go, Snart.” He didn’t have to fake the venom in his voice. As much as he liked the rush it gave him, standing off against Captain Cold, there wasn’t anything enjoyable about letting criminals stalk off with things that did not belong to them.  


Snart raised his eyebrow, and stared in an extended silence.  


It made Barry shift on his feet, growing oddly uncomfortable under his gaze, making him avert his own, hand moving up again, putting his attention on the fact that he wasn’t being given any instructions. “Cisco?”  


“Yeah?”  


“Any luck?”  


“Nothing so far. But hey, at least we got Captain Cold!”  that last part had an oddly suggesting tone, which Barry chose to very purposefully ignore. For the time being, at least.  


Barry groaned, muttering a halfassed ‘See you soon’ to Cisco and turning to face Cold, who didn’t look like he had moved an inch. Oh, and he was still staring. Great.  
  
Before he could think of changing his mind, Barry grabbed Snart, and sped off to the first alienated place he could find, which happened to be in a spacey warehouse.  


“Listen, Scarlet, I know you’re eager to be alone with me,” Snart begun, stressing every word.  


Barry ignored the flush creeping on his skin, thankful for his mask covering most of his face.  
 

“But I’ve got places to be.”  


“So unless you’ve got anything _relevant_ , I’d appreciate it if you dropped me off somewhere...Not here.” Cold gestured aimlessly, the smirk plastered on his face, his voice what Barry would describe as ‘dripping honey’ if he was hammered off his ass and spilling his guts. Good thing getting drunk was out of the question, being the Flash and all.

 

“You can’t just expect me to let you do as you please, Snart.” He did his best to draw out his frustration with the man, and put aside his hopefully soon-to-expire fascination with everything he did. Especially his voice. Also, his eyes. He’d have described them as ice-like before, but they looked warm to him, leaning towards greenish hues. He wondered how they would look, overridden by the black of his pupil, barely showing any colour. He wondered how Leonard Snart would look, blushing, biting his lip.  
Barry couldn’t help it. He glanced down towards Snart’s lips, noticing that they were pink, and chapped. Must be the whole cold thing. His heart automatically fluttered as he saw Snart swipe his tongue across said lips, slowly. Slower than what would usually be considered normal.  
  
Oh crap.

 

He quickly adjusted his gaze, meeting Cold’s eyes instead, ignoring the smirk, and his raised, questioning eyebrow.  
 

“Right.” He drawled, stepping forward, shortening the generous distance Barry had put in between them, which probably hadn’t been his best idea, since Cold still had his gun, which was thankfully uncharged, but still dangerous. 

“We have a deal, kid. I don’t hurt people, and you let me be.” He raised his arms as emphasis, and shrugged, Barry watching his finger brush against the cold gun’s trigger, but not pulling.

He kept on walking forward, slowly. All Barry could do was keep his eyes on Snart, who looked him up and down, eyes slowly taking in everything, making Barry feel so incredibly self conscious, tempting him into storming out of the place.

 

Leonard Snart stopped barely a foot away from Barry, the confidence he was exuding making him appear taller, despite the foot he had on Snart.  


“Now, unless you’ve got something...More.” They were too close now, and Barry couldn’t help the illogical fear that his heartbeat was loud enough to hear. It felt like a tremor in his chest, and he tried not to focus on that, or his dry mouth.  


He also wasn’t sure if he wanted to ignore the flirtatious tone-If that even was flirting. Barry hadn’t flirted since college, successfully, at least. He wasn’t sure he had ever been that great at picking up flirting directed at him, but this? Given how Barry couldn’t help but overanalyse Cold these days, he wondered if he was just imagining things.  
He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and resisted the urge to step back. Snart kept staring at him expectantly, an amused glint in his eye.

 

Barry’s eyes darted around Snart’s face, and then he left.

 

* * *

 

His sister might call his desire to wipe the Flash out as an ‘obsession’, but then again, what does she know about nemeses.  
At first, it wouldn’t have been an awfully inaccurate description, when he really _was_ trying to get the hero off the board, so he could freely steal whatever he wanted. But the thing is, the challenge was surprisingly exhilarating.  
Sure, it wasn’t like Len actually wanted to be caught, but the thrill of the chase? Well, that was all part of the process, and _oh_ , was it a fun process. Especially with the Flash challenging him, forcing him to _up his game_ , as it were.  


Lately, he’d been attempting to upgrade his Cold Gun, theorising on expanding the settings, making it so it didn’t just send blasts. But the thing is, as well as he knew the gun, and as easy it was for him to disassemble, and reassemble it while barely sparing a glance, adding new features was a whole another challenge.

But Leonard Snart liked challenges.

He sat in a chair, leaning back as he stared closely at the blueprints, carefully spread out on his desk. His glasses were perched on his nose, and although he would seem awfully busy with his gun to the outside eye, he was actually quite occupied with thoughts of his so called ‘obsession’, according to Lisa.  
Maybe ‘hobby’ would be a better word for it. Or ‘interest’? Anything but _obsession_ , it implied that Len couldn’t control it, and Len was _always_ in control.

He let his eyes scan over the room he was currently in. It had a relative amount of space, and although it seemed well used, it was pretty dusty. It was one of his less preferred safe houses, but it was the closest to the location where the Flash had dumped him at, so he’d made it his temporary place for the night.  
Besides, it also provided him some needed alone time. To think. It reminded him, Mick would probably be calling soon, wondering if he was ever planning on getting his share of the loot. Or not. Len knew Mick would rather keep it all to himself.

Thinking back on the prior events, Len let himself relax against the chair, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the desk. The Flash had been acting _strange_ recently. Not that he wasn’t always some sorts of strange, the kid had super speed. It really wasn’t all that normal.  
But this was a different kind. It was the way he behaved around Len. It wasn’t all too friendly, as always, but it seemed more...Nervous? Or shy. Which didn’t make a lot of sense. As much as he enjoyed making people nervous, Barry Allen hadn’t been one to fidget around him before. In fact, it’d been much more the opposite, with the occasional threats and bouts of anger.

   
But thinking back on it, Len had definitely noticed the looks he’d been receiving. The lingering stares, and the way he’d been watched earlier today, in the abandoned warehouse. His fingers paused on the desk, and he brought them up, gently tapping them against his bottom lip, reminding himself.

 

Interesting.

 

* * *

 

Would it be possible to vibrate just at the right frequency, so Barry Allen can sink down into the core of the Earth, and burn in the magma? Because that felt like something that should be happening right now.  


After completely making a fool out of himself, _and_ failing to actually fight crime, there was nothing left to do but mope. You better believe the Flash was going to mope. He was damn good at it  
But, knowing the inevitable pity party it’d lead to, Barry decided that going back to his apartment and screaming into his pillow in shame would probably not be as rejuvenating as he had been making it out to be in his mind. Instead, he just went back to STAR labs, planning on having a run on the treadmill.  


“Barry!” Caitlin hopped up from her chair, surprise evident on her face as she quickly walked over towards him, hands reaching in concern.  


“Dude!” In a similar surprise, Cisco spun around on his chair, but remained seated, instead settling on staring.  


“Uh, hi guys.”  


“Hi? We thought something might have happened! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” Barry could spot hints of anger and frustration behind Caitlin’s concern-and really, he couldn’t blame her. It was pretty careless of him not to contact his team.  


“That’s almost an eternity in Flash time!” Cisco helpfully added, sparing a quick, pitying smile towards his friend, before mimicking Caitlin, and crossing his arms.  


“Yeaahh…” Barry took a second to change into his civilian clothes, and smiled sheepishly. “Well, I’m not hurt!”  
 

“Barry!” It didn’t take a genius to see that Caitlin was really not happy with his terrible response.  


“What?”  


Cisco leaned forward in his chair, curiousity taking over him.“You’re gonna have to give us a little more than that, man. Come on! What happened with Captain Cold?”

Just the name made him cringe, and he turned his backs to his friends to hide his everlasting embarrassment. If being embarassed could kill, he would have died _so_ badly by now. But alas, he’s stuck trying to come up with a reasonable, and a believable explanation for what had really happened after he whisked Cold away from the scene of the crime, due whatever impulse reasoning. Really, though, he should have just left Snart there, for the police to catch. “Nothing worth telling.” He let his shoulders slump, reliving the shameful memory for a second.  
Not wanting to alert his friend to his terrible mood, he tensed his shoulders and turned around, putting on a wide grin, and immediately perking up again.

“Anyways! I feel like running.” Not waiting for a response, and undoubtedly, further questioning, he quickly made his way to the treadmill in the other room, and ran.

It didn’t feel as good as running through the city. There wasn’t anything to focus on, no colours flashing at him as he passed them by in a blur, no hints of voices, and conversations which he could clearly make out, if he paid enough attention. He closed his eyes, and let himself remember how in touch he would sometimes feel with his surroundings when he ran. How he felt like time meant _nothing_ , how he could feel, see and understand everything happening around him so perfectly, processing the information all at once. But before he could make sense of any of the sensations, it would all slip away from his fingers. He was always so close, it made him frustrated just thinking about it.

So, he ran faster. He ran from his weakness, and from feelings he couldn’t allow himself to have. He’d decided on that long ago-Barry wasn’t going to let anyone get hurt because of the Flash. He still sometimes considered leaving S.T.A.R. labs.

It wasn’t any secret that Cisco hadn’t been okay for a while. Sure, he still made jokes and kept the mood lighthearted, but Barry didn’t miss the way how he would turn to say something to an empty spot next to him, only to be silenced, face falling in a concealed mask of fury, and pain.  
He noticed the way Caitlin seemed more tired, restless, always jittery. Eyes darting around, as if expecting something to go wrong any second, and she wasn’t half wrong, either. But it was keeping her up, her eyes sunken, clearly tired. Yet she still smiled, still worried for _Barry_ , not a thought spared for herself. Barry could tell.   
He wasn’t helping his friends, and they actually _deserved_ happiness. Whereas, Barry? He didn’t deserve a single thing. Not after being so helpess. So weak.

So he ran. To get stronger, and for today, to just forget.  


“You know we can still talk to you, right?” Barry heard Caitlin’s voice through the comm system, snapping him out of his thoughts, making him open his eyes, and focus on the movement of his feet, and the feeling of his feet against the surface.  


“Uhhuh!” was his genius response, hoping the adrenaline rush would push his thoughts further away, specifically those about Snart.

Which backfired. It made him think-Had that really been flirting earlier on? Maybe Barry had just been projecting. There is no way in hell that Captain Cold would _flirt_ with the Flash, anyway. If anything, it was probably supposed to be more mocking, because that’s what Cold does, right? He’s a hardened criminal, who kills for his own purposes, and who doesn’t care about Barry Allen, and definitely not about his possibly-there-but-not-really-no-way crush on him.  


“Listen, we know you’re obsessed with Snart-” she continues, voice insistent.  


Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, Barry freaked out, and lost his footing, toppling backwards, and being flung backwards into the stack of boxes with a loud thump, his speed yet again working against him.  
Seeing everything in basically slow motion didn’t do much to help the situation either, it just gave him a bit more time to ponder about his life choices, and wondering why it was he just could not seem to control his body.  
The impact hurt a bit more than he remembered, and he yelped.  


“-But this is getting too far.” Finishing off her sentence like Barry hadn’t just had a terribly painful collusion with the wall, Caitlin seemed to be hanging on to the topic stubbornly. Great.  


It took him a few seconds to gather the willpower to stand, when he did, he got up with a loud groan, holding the back of his head. Oh, yep, there was a bruise, and he could feel the distinct throbbing of a few ribs, and wow, his back hurt.  
Barely a second later, Caitlin walked in with a first aid kit, sitting him down on the treadmill and signalling Barry to take his shirt off, which he quietly did.

He sighed as he watched her poke gently at his ribs, holding back a groan, and muttering in response to her previous comment. “I’m not obsessed. I’m just doing my job. Right, Cisco?” He raised his voice at the last part, looking back through the glass for his friend. 

“Huh? Yeah, sure.”  


Great. He had absolutely no one on his side.  


“Just talk to him or something, because we’re not letting you go out there before you get your head straight.” The movement against a cut he hadn’t known been there elicited a low hiss from him, and he bit his lip, watching as Caitlin began bandaging his wounds, which were becoming less painful by the second. Thank you, speedy healing.

“We aren’t?”  


Barry squinted, looking at Cisco questioningly “What do you want me to say? He’s a criminal, it’s sort of in the job description to do criminal things.”  


“You _know_ that’s not what I meant. Now before you can argue, I’m going home. You should too, you need the rest.” Her practiced hand drew away from his wounds, giving Barry his shirt back as she stood up and walked out of the room, heading towards the cortex, and Barry following her at normal speed.  
 

“ _Fine_.” Even if it was just to prove that he wasn’t obsessed, he would have to confront the weird thoughts he’d been having about his possible second nemesis. Third? Barry didn’t exactly rank the villains in his life.  
Apparently satisfied with his grudging response, Caitlin nodded, smiling as she bid Cisco and Barry goodnight, “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”  
It was late, so Cisco also got up, stretching and yawning quite loudly. “I need to pass out for as long as possible, but hey, if you need me, you know where to find me.” He practically sang out in between yawning, which made Barry snort.  
  
“Night.” After waving goodbye, Barry stood in the middle of the room, the footsteps going faint right as the lights were shut off, along with the whizzing of the machinery. Fidgeting for a second, he took a deep breath, and sped out.

He took the long route to his apartment. But that didn’t really mean much when you ran faster than the speed of sound. Still, he tried to enjoy the wind against his skin. If it wasn’t for the speed force in him, he would feel cold and overwhelmed, but the way he was now, it just felt like a pleasant breeze.The blurring of lights when he unfocused his gaze was quite enchanting, and he was wondering if he should just take laps around the place, but instead, he found himself stopping in front of the door to his apartment, his body apparently already having made the decision.  
 

Maybe some other day. He was _exhausted.  
_  

Running his hands over his face, he fished out the key from his pocket, and unlocked the door, stepping in. It was a relatively small place, the living room and kitchen on the same floor space. It was what one would call ‘cosy’. There was one bedroom, and the bathroom worked as connected room. He quite liked the layout. Plus, the rent was just his speed.  
He grinned at his pun, and made his way towards his bedroom, lazily shoving his shoes off at the door, before getting ready for bed in super speed. In no time, he fell face first onto his bed, and moaned. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbled sleepily into his sheets, and turned, laying on his back so his head rest on his pillow.

He couldn’t help but wonder about Snart. At this point, he’d blame it on his sleepy state, because he needed an excuse, otherwise his friends would be right about the whole obsession ordeal. But no, It was just plain and simple curiousity.  
That’s exactly what it was. It was innocent curiousity that led him to think about if Snart’s skin underneath his hands would feel cool. Barry _did_ have a naturally higher body temperature, but when having tackled Captain Cold earlier, he didn’t seem quite so cold. But then again, his gloves and the layers of clothing were in the way.  


He imagined a scenario in which there wasn’t anything separating  Barry’s hands from Snart, allowing him to trail his fingertips over bare skin. He could see Len lying down, chest heaving, out of breath. Peering up at Barry, his long eyelashes shadowing his cheeks in an impossible way, eyes glazed, yet intense as they always are. Lips parted just ever so slightly, red from being bitten, matching his flushed skin.  
Barry choked, and opened his eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing?  
He took a deep breath, and turned on his bed. He had not just imagined that. Crap. He was so much more far gone than he would have thought.  
He dug his teeth into his bottom lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his mind to wander towards thoughts that didn’t involve Leonard Snart  
 

It wasn’t surprising that Barry saw the man in his dreams, a hazy recollection of Snart’s voice and his hands the only thing he could remember come morning, leaving him longing for something he didn’t really understand.

 

* * *

 

The city seemed to be engulfed in fog. The cold was piercing, the kind where no matter how many layers you wear, you just can’t seem to get any warmer. It looked like it was about to rain any time, too, the clouds heavy, the sky dark. Hell, maybe it would even snow.  
Either way, it was a fine day.  
 

Having Decided to pick comfort over convenience, Len had moved safehouses early in the morning, taking along the few things he’d had in the previous place. The blueprints had just been traditional copies he’d done of the original references, which he burnt, so really, they weren’t very blue. Aside from that, he’d only brought his cold gun along. There wasn’t much he carried on his person, especially during heists, no need to weigh himself down.  
So when he had awoken, it was to a considerably more comfortable bed, meaning that his back didn’t ache, and thus, he was in a pleasant mood. The weather certainly assisted with that too. 

After pulling a heist, Len usually liked to lay low. The police would no doubt suspect him and Mick, with the frozen patches, and scorch marks, but it wasn’t like they had any proof, so it was no trouble, really.  
The only thing he had on his mind was whether to get coffee or not. He wasn’t much of a caffeine person, but he didn’t really mind the bitter taste of the drink, and today seemed like an appropriate day to have a cup, with the weather and all.

Making up his mind, Len dressed in casual attire. Black, comfortable jeans, a turtleneck and a winter jacket with a hood attatched to it. He wore one of his many black combat boots, and slipped on his pair of leather gloves, not forgetting to grab his wallet, and obviously, keys, on his way out.  
He drove his motorcycle to Jitters. Not his usual scene, sure. But he’d felt like it. Besides, he was just a regular law abiding citizen according to the law and the general public, so again, it didn’t really matter where he decided to have his coffee.

When he walked in, he was greeted with the sight of a line. Hm. Well. That was not quite what he’d expected, but he was full of spare time for the day, anyway, he’d make do. Taking his place in the queue, he checked his watch, 8:36 AM. Sparing a glance up to the menu, he skimmed through it, and paused on a particular item.  
 

The Flash.  


His superhero had a cup of coffee named after him. Len couldn’t help the small upturn of his mouth, amused by the notion. Which is why he ordered just that when his turn came. Because it was funny. Not for any other reason.  
Once he was handed over his cup, he took a place somewhere near the back, where it was less crowded, and glanced around the shop. It seemed like a moderately nice place, though Len usually liked places that were less well-known, and thus, with less people in them. It’s not like he had to worry about being arrested, though. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax, reminding himself that enjoying a coffee was _not_ wasting time.  


His eyes drifted over, scanning the crowd idly. His gaze stuck on a particular figure, bouncing up and down slightly as the barista listened to his order. The man seemed to have brown hair, sticking up in ways where it could just barely be classified as a hairstyle, instead of it being plain old bedhead, but just barely. He was loosely dressed, from what Len could see. Just a button up, and a cardigan over it. In this cold weather? He quirked an eyebrow, intrigued.  
When the man got his coffee, he thanked the lady at the counter, and turned so Len could see his face, a bright smile on it after his pleasant interaction with the woman.

 

Len froze.

 

Barry Allen, the Flash, made eye contact with him. The way his jaw dropped would have been comical, if Len hadn’t been so surprised himself.  
He stayed seated, quiet, watching as the Flash fidgeted, glancing towards the exit, contemplating on leaving, no doubt, which is what Len would have expected him to do. But no, instead, he watches the kid slowly walk over, and take a seat on the chair right in front of him.  


“Hey.” If Len didn’t know any better, he’d say that Barry was nervous to talk to him, his voice a pitch higher than it normally was.  


“Well, well. If it isn’t my biggest fan.” The response naturally rolled off his tongue, sardonic as always as he brought up his coffee, taking a sip, treating the interaction with as much as casual air as he could.  
When the coffee actually reached his tongue, he visibly recoiled. His grip on the cup tightened, and he gasped lightly at the _burn_ of the coffee on his tongue, face scrunching up in high discomfort. His tongue was naturally sensitive to the heat, and he didn’t know why he let himself get burnt pretty much every time he was handed with a hot drink. It was just ridiculous.

 He heard Barry let out a puff of laughter, his fingers stopping their nervous fiddling with his cup for a second, a smile on his face instead, cheeks red. Len couldn’t tell if it was from his comment, or from the cold. Probably the latter, he decided. “What?” Squinting his eyes, he put on his blank expression again, hand withdrawing from the coffee cup, deciding to let it cool.  
 

“It’s just-I’ve never heard you gasp before!” Barry snorted, putting a hand over his mouth as he averted his gaze, the red in his cheeks rising, to Len’s surprise.  


He could feel the desire to smile, and he let himself for just a split second, just as Barry looked back up to his face. He paused, showing an odd expression Len couldn’t quite decipher. Wiping the smile off of his own face, he furrowed his brows and stared expectantly.  


“What do you want, Scarlet?”  
 

Barry visibly tensed at the question, and looked away again. He moved a hand and brushed it against the back of his neck, a very obvious tell.  


“I, uh-” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. Len watched him, unconsciously leaning forward, observing how his blush spread all the way down to the collar of his shirt, his ears bright red, and his nose in a similar shade. It made Len wonder. He rested his elbows on the table, straightening his back and swiping a tongue over his dry lips, not missing how Barry’s eyes tracked the movement.  
He didn’t bother resisting the smirk, watching with curiousity as Barry seemed to redden even further, swallowing dryly.  


“You really do live up to your name.”  


Len tapped his cold fingers to his palm, wondering if Barry was feeling hot with how _red_ he had gotten. If the kid blushed like that all the time, then it would explain why he was dressed so lightly. His skin must be overheating.  
He wasn’t one to indulge in unrealistic fantasies, in any way, but his mind entertained the idea of how Barry would shiver under his cold touch, the way he’d willingly let Len steal his warmth as he looked with eyes full of heat.  


“Look, I just wanted to apologise for last night, for leaving you.” Barry sputtered out quickly, breaking Len out of his delusions, instead focusing on Barry, whose eyes were downcast towards his untouched coffee.

 

Pause.

 

“-Oh God, that sounds wrong-Like I left you in that warehouse after speeding you in there, not like anything else that might have sounded like. I mean, it sounded like I’m implying we spent the night together or something, which we didn’t! I mean, duh, you know that, obviously you can tell I’m talking about stranding you-geographically speaking-Although it wasn’t an _actual_ stranded location, it was just more secluded area, it was the first place I found and I didn’t wan-...I’m...I’m rambling. I’m gonna shut up now.”  
Mortified, Barry held his face in his hands, shutting up, true to his words.  


Len chuckled, not having expected the onslaught of words. The kid seemed different from when he was playing hero. He was all confidence and power then. Now, though, he seemed more tense, and relaxed at the same time, it was an interesting combination, especially with the amount of blushing that he’d managed in such a short time. It really was a sight to remember.  


Deciding that enough time has passed, he brought up the coffee to his lips, and took a cautious sip, pleased to learn that it was considerably cooler.The coffee tasted like it would keep him up for several hours, which in hindsight, wasn’t probably too bad. It was surprisingly bitter, though, not a drink you would name after the deliciously sweet Barry Allen.  
Len put that thought away for a later time, consciously making note of how thinking of his nemesis as _delicious_ was probably a very, very bad sign.

 

Barely 12 seconds of silence had passed before Barry started getting restless, hands withdrawing from his face, leg twitching, eyes avoiding Len’s still.  


“Barry,” Len still had his amused smile on his face, eyebrow raised, his voice slightly more relaxed than it usually was, missing the bite it had when he was Captain Cold.  
“Chill out.” His faint smile grew into a cocky grin, looking pretty damn accomplished.  


Barry let out the appropriate groan to a joke of that caliber, but his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “You’re the worst.”  


“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Red.” He mused, taking another sip of his drink, all the while keeping his eyes on Barry, not missing the way he’d reddened again, how his grip on his coffee stuttered as he brought it up to his smooth lips, shaped in a crooked smile, gulping down his coffee. Len watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed, eyes lingering on the skin exposed at his neck, briefly wondering if the fact that he wasn’t freezing was related to his super speed instead of the previous theory he had come up with.  


“So?” Len prompted again. As entertaining as the whole situation was, Len had made it a point not to familiarise himself with people, especially people who wanted him put away in jail. He’d really rather not break that rule. Besides, he doubted the Flash was here for idle small talk.  


“Huh?” Barry seemed confused at the question, head tilted to the side, squinting. “What...Oh!” Whatever realistion he had come upon seemed to make him tense again, shoulders closing in.  


“Uh-” Len really wasn’t sure what the kid was up to. Was this some sort of a ploy to get his weakness? If so, he really wasn’t doing too good of a job. “Um-” Stalling? For what.  
Len begun to grow suspicious, and Barry seemed to notice, causing him to go quiet for a second.  


“Sca-” He begun as a warning, but was cut off when Barry’s head snapped up, a glint in his eyes, and a wide grin. “Right! No-I sort of have something to say, you’re right.” Reading this kind was surprisingly hard for someone who had all their emotions on display. Was he being played right now?

“Okay, so, I was sort of hoping to improve on our ‘deal’-And don’t give me that look! It’ll be beneficial to both parties. You just have to hear me out.” Len raised an eyebrow, watching as Barry seemed to get distracted with his watch.  


Way too suddenly, Barry stood up, chair pushing back, coffee almost spilling. Surprised, Len steadied the table with a hand, and frowned, noticing the alert look that was on the other’s face. “-Oh shit, I’m _so_ late. I-I have to…” He stumbled, straightening the messenger bag slung around him, hand reaching to pick up his drink. He shot a quick apologetic look towards Len’s direction, and averted his gaze. “I have to go I’ll- _Shit_.” he muttered the last part to himself as he stumbled embarrassingly so, on nothing but his own two feet.  


After straightening himself, he paused, and turned to look at Len again, who at this point, couldn’t help the teasing look he had on. Barry’s face turned red again, and he reached into his bag carelessly, rummaging through his stuff, “H-Hold on, uh-” He pulled out a small notepad, and a pen, eyes lighting up as Len watched him scribble something on it in a blur, the piece of paper falling down towards Len on the table, floating in the air. Before he could inspect what was on it, Barry cleared his throat shuffling backwards “Um-Use that, this is important, okay? No scam, I promise-Just…” He almost fell backwards, bumping into someone’s shoulder as he continued walking backwards, eyes darting from Len to his surroundings, “Don’t forget- _please_.” He seemed uncharacteristically pleading, and any other time, Len would have been more than happy to provide some of his snark, but instead, he watched as Barry finally turned. He was apologising profusely to the person he’d bumped into before rushing off through the door, sparing a brief and hesitant glance towards Len before darting away as fast as he could without using his actual speed.  


Right. He smiled to himself, amused, and looked down at the piece of paper. It had landed upside down on top of his hand. He reached out, and turned it around, smile turning into a grin as he saw digits. The Flash had just given him his phone number- given it to Captain Cold.

His eyes drifted down, noticing a note written in smaller, rushed letters.

 

_‘If you don’t call me I’ll tell everyone Captain Cold’s weakness is hot coffee._

_:)’_

 

Touché.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
